Life is often compared to a marathon, but I think it is more like being a sprinter; long stretches of hard work punctuated by brief moments in which we are given the opportunity to perform at our best.
The good of our present state is merely comparative, and the evil which every man feels will be sufficient to disturb and harass him if he does not know how much he escapes.
Instead of comparing our lot with that of those who are more fortunate than we are, we should compare it with the lot of the great majority of our fellow men. It then appears that we are among the privileged.
I believe, if we take habitual drunkards as a class, their heads and their hearts will bear an advantageous comparison with those of any other class.
The great high of winning Wimbledon lasts for about a week. You go down in the record book, but you don’t have anything tangible to hold on to. But having a baby – there isn’t any comparison.
Comparisons are odorous. (Much Ado About Nothing)
A crusader’s wife slipped from the garrison – And had an affair with a Saracen. She was not oversexed, Or jealous or vexed, She just wanted to make a comparison.
Comparing apples to oranges.
Comparisons are odious.
To compare is not to prove.